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down on his neck, sinking her hands into the thick black fur ....
He screamed in fear and denial, twisted around to claw her away ....
And collapsed on the torn up turf of the glade. The sicamar faded.
Adlayr Ryan-Turriy lay comatose and naked, facedown on the dirt.
>>
The guard was sitting on the landing, legs dangling over the edge, body draped
over the rail, snoring and mumbling in his sleep. Kielin tapped Hedivy on the
shoulder, touched her finger to her lips, then pointed down.
She joined him on the ground, took his arm. Without speaking, she led him
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along a narrow footpath along the spine of the island, stopping him when they
reached the ring of stilt houses where the rest of the captives were housed.
 The Gazingey is coming, she said.  He s bring-ing his herbman to look at
you, so there s no point in dos-ing you again. We have to hide you.
He looked around. The island was a wart of dry ground surrounded by muck and
scummy water, patches of thick reeds, gnarled trees with thick, bottlebrush
foliage and moss beards dripping from every branch. Eyes followed him from the
water, glistening in the persistent twilight; in the distance he could hear
splashes, squeals, bird squawks and the beating of wings. A huge pointed head
dipped beneath the foliage, swayed back and forth a mo-ment, then pulled back
into the deep shadow. Dull gray-green coils slipped and slid along the limb as
the serpent moved back to the trunk. He shivered, swung round to face
Kielin.  How? he said.  I can just about see across this place and, shaky as
I am, I could walk it end to end in less than half an hour. You want me to go
off in a boat of some kind?
 Nay, Hedivy Starab, nothing like that. She patted his arm.  We have our
ways. Come along, trust us, haven t we done well by you so far?
He shrugged and followed her to the edge of the ring and one of the largest
trees on the island. The trunk was the color of vomit, the bark pale and
slick. It was at least five feet across and looked as if half a dozen trees
had sprung from seed so close together that they d grown into each other. The
lowest limbs were huge and put down subsidiary trunks to support their weight.
Roots rayed out from the trunk, thrusting up knobby knees at irregular
in-tervals. Thin pale vines wound round the trunk, dripped in
complicated loops from the branches adding their limp, nearly colorless leaves
to the long dark green fingers of the tree s foliage. She led him into the
shadow, pointed to a mat plaited from reeds.
 Sit there, she said  You ll find water, some yenko fruits, and a packet of
sandwiches on the other side of that root knee. I ll be back in a moment.
 What s going on?
 I ll tell you when I return. Just be patient. Everything will be fine, I
promise. She turned, looked over her shoulder, one gray brow raised
quizzically.  I never promise lightly, Hedivy Starab.
He watched her walk off, as unhurried as ever, wonder-ing if she ever got
flustered like ordinary folk.
His leg started aching, so he eased himself down, reached over a root, and
poured himself a glass of water. It was going to be magic, he could smell it;
turned his stomach, just the thought of it. He rubbed his hand across the
stubble that was getting itchier every day, no sharp edges for prison-ers. His
beard
would be coming in red, it always did, made him look like a clown with his
hair such a different color; he hadn t much personal vanity, but there were
lim-its. He touched the trunk, smoothed his hand down it, feeling bumps like
pimples in a slick surface, but when he looked at his hand there was no
exudate so he leaned back and sipped at the water, wondering what fool thing
this lot of woolly heads was going to try on him. Funny woman, Kielin. To look
at her you d think she was sharp, no flies on her, then she d say something
weird and you d wonder what the dreck was goin on.
There was a creaky slithering sound over his head. He looked up, flung himself
away from the trunk, the glass flying from his hand to crash against a knee.
He rolled up, glared at the boy standing beside
Kielin, a grin nearly splitting his thin face in half.
The boy circled round him, stepped over a root and reached up to cuddle the
huge lanceolate head against his.  It s only Luhida, she doesn t eat anyone we
don t tell her to. He shrugged out of a pack woven from reeds, then squatted
on the mat where Hedivy had been sitting.
Hedivy bent, swatted grit off his trousers; when he straightened, his face was
back under control.  I
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don t like snakes.
Kielin hmphed.  Like or not like, we need her. Go back and sit down and stay
as calm as you can.
Be best if you could go to sleep.
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